


till death do us part

by RottenKidNextDoor (PortalofWords)



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Boys In Love, Character Death, M/M, but it's temporary, jay pretends to be strong, putting each other out of their misery, the barrier heals the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PortalofWords/pseuds/RottenKidNextDoor
Summary: "the first time jay killed carlos, they were sitting in the foyer of hell hall and carlos was worried about the blood on the floor."orjay and carlos have an agreement to kill each other to exploit the magic barrier's healing ability when things go too far. killing for mercy isn't as easy as it sounds.





	1. part I

The first time Jay killed Carlos, they were sitting in the foyer of Hell Hall and Carlos was worried about the blood on the floor.

“She’s - she’s gonna flip -” he wheezed, trying to sit up. “Gotta clean it up.”

“Stop struggling,” Jay ordered - but gently, and with a tremor to his voice that he couldn’t quite seem to hide. “Carlos. Just stay still. I have to see how bad it is.”

“Don’t get blood on the floor!” Carlos’ voice barely made any noise at all, and he groaned at the effort it took. “Clean it up! Sh-she’ll freak, Jay, please -”

“Okay, okay, shhh.” Jay gingerly peeled off the shirt, wincing inwardly every time Carlos made another strangled groan. The other boy’s freckled chest had been bruised beyond recognition. Purple and red and black blotches marbled together across the skin, raised at odd angles near his ribs.

“Jay…” Carlos’ breathing had become even more labored. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Tiny beads of sweat had gathered themselves on his upper lip and forehead. “It’ll be fine.”

“You can’t breathe very well, can you?” The thief did his best to examine the sharp bumps. “Dude, she broke a bunch of ribs.”

The smaller boy licked his lips, which were cracked and stained red from blood. “It’s - it’s okay,” he gasped weakly. “I’ve had broken ribs before.”

“You need to rest.” Jay didn’t know how else to help this boy. If anyone found out that he’d even come over here to check on him after he didn’t show up to Mal’s weekly meeting. “Is there anyway you can stay off your feet for a… few weeks?”

They both knew that was a hopeless request. Carlos’ livelihood depended on his ability to work.

“She - she won’t let me,” Carlos wheezed, his eyes screwed shut. “I have to work. Y-you - _oh -_ know that.” The smaller boy suddenly contracted in Jay’s lap, curling in on himself in an effort to stop himself from coughing. Tension radiated off the freckled boy’s battered body, and Jay grit his teeth to hold him in place. When the fit subsided, pain-filled honey colored eyes met Jay’s. They were suddenly much calmer, more relaxed. “You know what you need to do.”

“No.” Jay shook his head, the knife in his pocket suddenly feeling much heavier. “Carlos, no. We’ll find another way.”

“You promised,” the other boy said, hissing as he moved a little to the left to stare at Jay better. “It’s the only… only magic we’ve got. You promised that if I was ever like this you’d do it.”

“What if it doesn’t work this time?” Jay whispered fiercely, looking around to make sure no one had overheard. “What if you just die? And it’s on me? I’ll have to go tell Mal that I murdered you! And I never get to see you ever again while I’m stuck here for all eternity! Carlos, I can’t!”

“It’ll be - be okay. The barrier -” It seemed to take all of Carlos’ strength to get the words out. “The barrier will heal me. It will. And if it doesn’t, it’s not really a big deal. Please, Jay. Please?”

It was a big deal, at least to Jay, but damn it, he never could say no to those eyes, no matter how much he tried to kid himself. And they did have a deal. They’d made the pact on the roof in the middle of the night. “Carlos…”

“You promised, Jay.” Cruella’s son took his hand, and Jay saw now how badly the other boy was shaking. “It hurts Jay. I gotta work. I can’t stay like this for - for two weeks. Please.”

And although his vision was threatening to blur, Jay nodded. If it got out that Jay - charming, strong, ruthless Jay - had killed anyone out of mercy - and worse, been upset while doing it - he would get his ass kicked. So, slowly and deliberately, he drew his knife and poured some of the contents of his flask on the blade. At least he could kill Carlos with a sterilized tool.

“Jay?”

The older boy barely looked up from his knife. “Yeah?”

“Make - make it fast, okay?”

The question almost broke Jay’s resolve, and he paused in his cleaning before nodding. “Alright.” Casually, almost as if he was asking about the weather, he asked, “so, how long before the magic, you know…” _Brings you back to me?_

“Not sure. Depends.” Another groan. “Please do it now, though. Mom w-will be home soon. I wanna be gone before that happens.”

Taking a deep breath, Jay positioned Carlos in his lap for a moment, tilting the freckled boy’s head back to expose his throat. Willing his hands to stay cool and steady and collected, he stared right at Carlos for a few seconds. Carlos stared back at him, giving an almost imperceptible nod.

“I’ll see you in a few,” the smaller boy promised softly. “Don’t be scared.”

“I’m never scared.” In one fluid motion, Jay slit Carlos’ throat. His vision went red, but he supposed the blood covering his hands might’ve had something to do with it. For a moment, something snapped inside Jay and he clenched his jaw together, forcing the emotions to stay in their little box.

“Oh, fucking hell, Carlos.” Jay held the boy, pulling him close, wishing his limp body would move again. Be okay again. Be alive again. He could see the scene now from an outsider’s point of view, and almost laughed at how pathetic it must look. Him cradling a small, dead boy, both of them covered in blood.

 _Clean up. Clean it up,_ Carlos’ voice said in his mind. The least he could do was let Carlos wake up to a bloodless floor. Stripping the other boy down to his underwear, Jay carried him up to his mattress, using the safe way through the closet that Carlos had shown him ages ago.

It was a strange thing, to see Carlos lying so still and pale on his mattress, his skin matching the grey fabric. For a moment, Jay almost convinced himself that he was simply sleeping, but he’d slept with Carlos and the latter never kept still so the comforting thought didn’t last long.  

“Here.” Jay took a cobra charm from his pocket, placing it down gently on Carlos’ bruised chest. “If you wake up before I get back, this will keep you safe.”

 

 

\---

 

 

The darkness lifted slowly.

Black turned to grey, grey turned to white, and white became very, very fuzzy. Slowy, Carlos became aware that he could think again.

 _Open your eyes,_ his mind urged. _Open your eyes._

But his eyes refused to open for a few more languid moments. When they finally drifted open, he blinked several times. Where the hell was he? Was he still dead? Why did the afterlife look like his room?

A name floated its way into his subconscious.

_Jay… Jay…. Jay -_

“Jay!”

Sitting up so fast he nearly knocked himself out again, Carlos felt something slide off his chest and clatter onto the floor. Picking it up slowly, he recognized the object to be Jay’s lucky charm, the one shaped like a cobra. Relief surged through his veins.

_He’s still here. I’m not dead. Jay is protecting me._

Carlos hardly noticed that he was only wearing his underwear or that his chest had just as many freckles without the alarming purple bruises underneath. Barefoot, he walked out of the closet and into the hallway. It felt strange, he decided, to be practically naked walking through his house. The steps creaked under his feet as he descendanded them, glancing around the foyer where he’d been left lying earlier. The floors were no longer smeared with blood, not even a smudge, and the whole place smelled strongly of bleach.

“Carlos?”

Jay stood in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at him.

“Did you clean up?”

“Oh, fucking hell.” Jay let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, thank fuck. You’re alive.” Striding over to him, the taller boy examined his chest and throat, his calloused fingers running lightly over everything. It made Carlos shiver slightly. “And you’re okay? You feel okay? Don’t you dare go dying on me again, de Vil!”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“I’m not doing that again.”  There was a strange, rough quality to Jay’s voice - and if Carlos didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the other boy was about to cry.

“I’m okay,” Carlos promised, running his hands through Jay’s hair. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“Still not doing that again.”

“You won’t have to.”

 

Just like slitting a friend's throat, sometimes lies were necessary. 

 


	2. part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "the first time carlos killed jay, sleet sounded like arrows on the tin roof of their hideout"

The first time Carlos killed Jay, the sleet sounded like arrows on the tin roof of their hideout.

Jay turned over on the couch feverishly, his restless movements only adding to the tension in the room.

“Jay, are you sure you’re not hungry?” Carlos glanced over at the basket of spoils on the table. There were even a couple pretty large pieces of bread that didn’t look too moldy. “We brought over all the best things we could find.”

“Nah.” Jay stared up at the ceiling, the redness of his cheeks illuminated by the lamp in the corner.

“You haven’t eaten in days.”

“So?” Jay wiped sweat off his forehead, but the shiver that passed over him didn’t go unnoticed by the freckled boy. He’d taken the son of Jafar’s temperature religiously with the thermometer he’d calibrated himself, but he suspected the digits were a little off. Either that or Jay’s fever was at one hundred and ten as of nine o’clock this morning.

“Think your dad is looking for you?” Carlos knew that if he’d been hiding up here for a week, his mother would go batshit. But only because the floors would get dusty, and her furs would slouch on their hangers.

“Dad’s looking for the goods I bring in.” Jay tried to give him a nonchalant smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “It’s fine. I’ll double my usual haul when I kick this. He’ll live with it. I’ll beat this soon, ‘Los. You’ll see.”

“Yeah.” Carlos wasn’t so sure. He had never seen Jay this sick before. He’d never seen anyone this sick before. And this was _Jay:_ the stubbornest, strongest person he knew; if it looked bad on him, it really felt ten times worse.  “You want the wet towel again?”

“It’s okay.” Jay’s eyes closed and he made a face, his fist clenching.

“Just take the towel.”

“No! I don’t need it! I’m fine.”  

Carlos knew fine, though. And this certainly wasn’t it. Another couple of hours passed, and the freckled boy began to bounce his leg. He had to leave in the morning and go back to Hell Hall, as usual. And even though Mal or Evie would come and take over, he hated leaving Jay like this.

But he decided that it would be alright.

Up until the point where Jay started screaming.

“NO! FUCK OFF! GET AWAY FROM THEM!”

Kneeling by his side, Carlos tried to shake him awake and felt very discouraged to realize that his eyes had already opened. This was no nightmare; Jay was delirious.

As the older boy’s screams died, he stared at Carlos. “Mom? Mom, help me.”

“No, Jay, it’s Carlos. Carlos. I’m Carlos.” He took the wet cloth anyway and pressed it to the older boy’s forehead. “You aren’t getting better. You’re getting worse.”

“FUCK!” Jay writhed again, and Carlos nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart racing.

“Holy shit, holy shit.” Carlos rubbed his own forehead, thinking. They needed medicine or magic badly. But it was the dead of winter; the sea was icy and choppy, and Auradon didn’t send barges over when the water was bad. And magic - there was no magic. Except, of course…  the barrier.

“Hey, Jay?” Carlos ran his fingers through the older boy’s tangled, sweaty hair, trying to push it off his forehead. “Can you remember me for a moment… do you remember our pact?”

“Mom? Mom… I’m okay… I’m okay…” Jay groaned heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort.

Would it be wrong to just do it? To just kill him? Jay would wake up feeling better. Would he be angry that Carlos had done it without permission?

“I’m trying to get permission!” Carlos cried out to no one in particular. “Please, Jay, can I kill you? A nod? Just a simple yes?” His fingers fiddled with the handle of his pocket knife secured along his belt line. A simple cut to end the pain. It seemed worth it; it had to be worth it.

Jay groaned again, the noise sounding very much like it was being drawn from the very depths of his soul. His skin burned to the touch. Carlos realized that if he didn’t kill Jay now, the sickness might overtake him anyway, and a throat slit was way faster than suffering for another few days. Taking another look at Jay, Carlos bit his lip. The son of Jafar was letting out little moans in between mumbled phrases of nothingness. He looked nothing sort of miserable.

A lump welled up in Carlos’ throat as he brought out the knife with one hand, plaiting Jay’s hair with the other.

“Hey,” Carlos said softly, swallowing hard. “I’m gonna make you feel better. Do you want that?”

Jay’s only answer was another excruciating groan.

“It’s only gonna hurt for a second.” Tears burned at the back of Carlos’ eyelids. “I promise. And then you’ll be okay.” He tried to remember his own experience, but the pain of the moments before mostly overshadowed any other memory or fear he might’ve had leading up to the final stroke. “I guess this is harder for the person doing the killing, huh?” Carlos sniffed some, wiping his eyes. “Oh, this is ridiculous. You didn’t cry.”

Jay’s eyes held a dazed, wild look in them that unsettled Carlos in the deepest parts of his soul.

“Okay, okay.” Carlos inhaled slowly, pressing the knife to Jay’s neck with a shaking hand. “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna do it. Please come back.” He kept one hand in Jay’s hair, stroking it through over and over again.The older boy gasped violently and in half a second, they were both covered in dark, warm blood.

_Jay’s blood. I have Jay’s blood on my hands._

Tears were flowing freely now as Carlos held Jay tightly, braiding his hair over and over. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

The son of Jafar choked on his own blood, the redness dripping down his chin. Finally, the older boy stilled and his eyes focused for half a second before freezing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Carlos sobbed, forcing himself to look anywhere but Jay’s body. “It’s fine. You’re not dead forever. Just a little bit.”

But he looked dead. He looked very dead. It was definitely much easier to be the one dying. Just a second and then it was over. Blackness. Darkness. But now Carlos had to wait. And watch. How had Jay done? What had he done to pass all this awful silence?

_He cleaned. You can clean up. You love cleaning up._

The sleet was still pounding on the roof. Steady. Persistent. It helped Carlos begin to breathe again. Tidying up helped him breathe again, too. First he took off Jay’s clothes and washed them. He watched the water in the metal washbasin slowly turn redder and redder, and tried not to think about where it came from. Next, he took a rag to the couch and the floor and anywhere else where blood might’ve smeared, including his own hands and arms. He’d deal with his shirt later. All the while, the sleet pounded on.

Somewhere along the way, when there was nothing more to scrub or wipe down or wash away, Carlos must’ve sat down because he found himself sitting in the corner with his arms wrapped around his knees.

_This is taking too long. Why isn’t he awake?_

 

\---

  


The lack of pain was the first thing Jay was acutely aware of as he slowly fluttered his eyes. It felt like pulling himself from the deepest, darkest sleep. His eyes were weighted down and his head foggy as hell, but the rest of his body felt oddly light and weightless. The sharp, agonizing pains in his head and back were gone, melted away like the rest of the fiery sensations he recalled.

What had happened? Where had the hammering inside his head and behind his eyelids gone? Why was he suddenly waking up, healed as if by magi -

_Oh. Oh, Carlos killed me. He went through with the pact._

For such a frightening realization, Jay figured he probably should’ve felt a little more scared, but at the moment, he was too quiet and peaceful to dwell on the fact with anything more than mild curiosity.

“Jay?” Carlos’ voice sounded far away, but the older boy forced his eyes to open anyway.

“‘M here,” he mumbled, blinking a few times. “‘M here.”

“Please don’t be angry,” Carlos said quickly, biting his lip anxiously. “Oh, God, Jay, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to. I would’ve gotten your permission, but -”

“Hey.” Jay cut through his babble with a soft smile. “Carlos, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. The killing to save, the total, irrevocable irony of it all - it wasn’t okay! But there was also nothing that could be done. There would be no storming the castle, no demanding change.

After all, they weren’t special. Their situations weren’t isolated or out of the ordinary - at least not as far as the island was concerned. Other kids made the same decisions, other people exploited the barrier.  And whether they liked it or not, they had to take whatever magic came their way, no matter how morally destabilizing the process.

 _We don’t have morals_ , they reminded themselves. _Only a promise to protect what’s ours._

 

And protect they would, and protect they did.

 


	3. part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The magic always worked; it always brought them back. Until the day it almost didn’t."

The scars by which death arrived never did fade.

The cigarette burns and the broken ribs and the bloody noses and the black eyes all did, at least physically. They were no longer visible to the eye or the touch.

But no matter how many days passed, the solid, white scars along their necks stayed visible, the only sign that their bodies had once been grey and cold and still. It always happened along the same cut, the same line they split open again in times of crisis as if inviting the blackness to return.

One of the many times found Jay caught with a knife between his ribs, staggering into the hideout one hot, sticky night. Carlos still didn’t like blood on the floor, no matter whose house or whether his mother would ever see the stain or not, but he held Jay until it was all over anyway.

Another time, Carlos’ eyes went dark thanks to the shards of glass embedded in their surfaces, a parting gift from the vase his mother had thrown in one of her frenzies. The barrier’s magic healed his vision, but not before he choked on the blood running down his throat from Jay’s knife.

It never really got easier, but they learned to deal with it. As time when on, the boys even trusted the process enough to try it by themselves. Dying became routine, expected, and although they both hated to admit it, they had started relying upon the magic for even the simplest of injuries. After all, why shouldn’t they use it to their advantage? It always worked; it always brought them back. Until the day it almost didn’t.

Carlos overheard two things that fateful afternoon.

One: that Jay had sustained a pretty nasty wound from someone’s rusty rapscallion down on the docks.

And two: the barrier’s magic had somehow been weakened; the death restriction was somehow gone, and someone had died for the first time in a long time.

He would learn, years later, that fairy godmother’s wand had been cracked sitting in its precious little glass case, suffering under the harsh lights. It had been repaired - thanks to the very vague “only-if-necessary” clause in the Auradon rulebook - and placed in a suspended, magical display beam, hovering above the ground for hundreds of museum-goers to gawk at, but not before the magic in the island prison’s dome had been temporarily compromised.

 _Jay’s gonna try and use the magic_ , came the wild realization. And as Carlos stood, frozen in that dusty, grimy marketplace, he could almost see how perfectly stupid the whole situation was. _He’s gonna die, and he won’t come back._

His legs moved so fast he practically couldn’t feel them by the time he reached the hideout. What if Jay had already done it? What if it was too late?

_Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead._

“Don’t do it!” he panted, stumbling into the room. “Jay, don’t! Barrier - weak - not gonna - work.”

But Jay - very much awake - didn’t have a knife pointed at himself or anything else that might suggest suicide. He was lying on the broken down couch, his bare chest revealing a deep, angry gash across his ribs. Red-brown blood had caked on his skin and dried mid-drip. “I know, Carlos.” The thief shifted gingerly, wincing. His voice sounded tired and sore, rather alarming since he usually kept up a pretty cheerful face.

Carlos paused to let the air back into his lungs. “You know about the barrier?” he asked at last.

“Yeah.” Jay gave him a thin smile. “Word gets around pretty fast. I even saw a few pirates trying to row out to sea in case the dome fails completely.”

“How did people know it was broken?” Carlos looked around, wondering what life would be like if they weren’t trapped. “Who figured it out?”

“Search me.” Jay stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I guess someone tried to use the revival magic, and well, failed.”

“I was worried you had.” The admission came tumbling from his mouth before he could stop it. Thankfully, Jay didn’t acknowledge the slip-up.

“Those damn pirates screwed me over again,” he told the freckled boy. “Promised me a whole crate of hard cider, and I only got a few bottles. Turned into a pretty hostile confrontation.”

“I thought you ran with the pirates sometimes.” Carlos tried to recall the last time he’d seen Jay hanging out at the docks.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jay took a raspy inhale, the feathered flesh along the edges wound glowing from the sweat trickling down his chest. “But ever since they found out I stole from their stash, they’ve been a little less friendly.”

“Is anyone really friendly here?”

Jay’s laugh sounded painful. “I guess not.”

Inching a few steps closer, Carlos examined the cut on Jay’s chest. “That looks kinda bad.”

“It’s alright.” The thief tried to sit up to get a better look, but Carlos held him down. “We have to be careful. We don’t have the same luxuries as before.”

How ironic that luxuries for them meant magic to keep them from ever leaving this rocky prison, even through death, but luckily, Jay didn’t try to fight it. He rested back against the worn, mismatched pillows and watched Carlos attempt to figure out where to start.

“You brought those cider bottles, right?” Carlos looked around, and at Jay’s instruction, found a stash behind a table in the corner. He popped the top off, handing it to the taller boy. “Drink up.” Alcohol was as good an anesthetic as they could hope for.

“The sword was rusty.” Jay said it casually, but Carlos understood. He paused, staring down at the exposed and inflamed skin.

“Shit.” Who knew when the barrier’s magic would be reinstated? Jay's usually tan complexion looked waxy and pale from the blood loss. A pang of fear that struck Carlos’ gut reminded him of the first night he’d watched Jay die. For the first time in a long time, the threat of death was suddenly very, very imminent. “You’re not gonna die,” he promised, but the words sounded empty even to him. There was a sort of finality about the wound, and acceptance in Jay’s expression.

“It wouldn’t be so bad.” Jay smiled softly at him again. “Dying, I mean. I’m sure there are endless bottles of cider in the afterlife.”

Carlos’ throat felt tight. “You can’t,” he heard himself say. “Jay - they’ll fix the barrier. You’ll be okay.”

“Hey, hey, de Vil, look at me.” Jay’s eyes met his own, and something calm rested beyond their usual fierce and angry glare. “You can’t let this be the thing that breaks you, okay? This place is still hell. You can’t let your guard down. You can’t stop fighting, even if I’m not there to fight beside you. Got it?”

“I’ll get Mal,” Carlos choked out. “Or Evie. They can fix this. We can fix this.”

“Shhh.” Jay motioned to the ground beside the couch. “No, you can’t. Not this time. Just stay with me for a while, alright? Just talk, and we’ll pretend one of us isn’t bleeding out.”

The world was blurry by the time Carlos sank down to the ground. He dashed the tears away, wanting to focus on Jay’s face, his best friend’s face and eyes and smile before they disappeared forever. “We’ll fix this,” he kept saying, like the TV in his treehouse that sometimes got stuck on the same frame. “We’ll fix this.”

“What’s one thing you’ve never told anyone about yourself?” Jay stared at him calmly, his voice quiet, but steady.

“What?”

Jay gave him another soft smile. “I wanna know everything about you, de Vil. That way, when you come and join me when it’s your time to go, we can pick up right where we left off.”

“Oscar,” Carlos sniffed. “My middle name is Oscar.”

“Really?” Even in his current state, the thief somehow worked up the courage to shake his head. “I ask you for your darkest secret, and you tell me your middle name?”

Carlos’ laugh came out like a sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything else to tell you. You already know all the dark stuff.”

“Then tell me the good,” Jay said. “Anything good. What’s your happiest memory?”

Happiness was a drug hard to come by on the island, but Carlos racked his mind anyway. Because this was Jay, because it might be the last time they got a chance just to sit and talk, because - most likely - any secrets he spilled Jay would take to the grave… literally. “Sitting with you on the roof that one time.”

A soft expression came over Jay’s usually hard-set face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carlos ran a hand through his hair. “When we shared a drink and talked and everything.”

“Sounds like a typical Friday night,” Jay said with a ghost of his old cocky attitude.

“No, not this time.” Carlos could still picture it clear as day, with the light fading behind the buildings and the wind lifting their hair. He’d felt something sitting up on that roof, sipping on that bottle. Something unexplainable. Something dangerous.

“What made it different?” Jay coughed a little, his eyes closing a bit like he had a sudden head pain.

“I - I don’t remember.”

 _Liar_ , the voice in Carlos’ head hissed. _What do you have to lose?_

“I see.” Jay’s voice had gotten even softer, and Carlos felt that fear bubble up again. This couldn’t be the way the daredevil, charming son of Jafar went out. Not after all he’d managed to survive. “Carlos?” He opened his eyes again, but Carlos could tell his strength was fading fast.

“Yeah?”

But Jay never got to finish. His eyes closed again, and he sank back against the cushions, his chest barely moving. Carlos couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t _do anything._

And he couldn’t save Jay.

 

 

x/x

 

The next few hours passed by in a grey blur.

Carlos couldn’t stop to worry about the boy who’d stopped breathing on the couch. He had chores and errands and a mother to please. Jay couldn’t do anything for him now. He had to leave him.

When he told Mal the news, she went pale. Her lips twitched like they wanted to say something, but after a moment, she turned and stalked down the street. Carlos didn’t blame her.  Evie didn’t stalk away or huff. She started to cry, holding Carlos and whispering how sorry she was. Carlos didn’t know if he preferred her hug or Mal’s quiet, protected indifference. Neither of them healed the dull ache that had settled in all parts of his body.

Life didn't stop, though. It wasn't like the shouting in the marketplace quieted; the clanging of rusty pipes never faded. Nothing about the island suggested something out of the ordinary had occurred. That was quite possibly the worst part of it all: realizing that no one cared that Jay had died.

And why should they? What was one more child? What was one more person to steal food that could just as quickly be in someone else’s mouth? Auradon didn’t pay any attention to them. The island residents certainly didn’t care about what happened to a street rat with a dashing smile who was prone to snatching their belongings. So, in some ways, Carlos felt ashamed. Why should he take this so hard? What was wrong with him? Why did he attach so easily?

 _You don’t_ , that little voice pestered. _You don’t attach to anything, and you know it. Jay was different. Jay was special._

Everything seemed much farther away in the hours after Jay’s death - yes, death. Carlos didn’t bother with gentle words like “passing.” There was nothing gentle about the way Jay had gone. And maybe, the disassociation that began to sink into all parts of his mind and body was the reason that he didn’t realize Evie and Mal had come to find him again until he nearly ran into them.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, instinct stepping backward. Mal grabbed his arm - something he’d rather she didn’t do without announcing - but it seemed to be urgent, so he forced himself out of the cloud and back into the marketplace.

“Look,” she hissed. “We followed him here.”

Carlos followed her gaze and found a rather ordinary looking boy with dirty knees and sunk-in eyes standing in the corner of the market.

“Carlos, where is Jay?” Evie’s question caused that dull ache inside Carlos to pulse rather painfully. How could she ask that of him? How could she force him to say that out loud again? “Carlos, where did you leave him?”

“Hideout.” He could only muster up the energy for one word. He still had miles of chores and chores and chores and -

“Let’s go.” Mal began pulling again without bothering to let him connect the dots.

“Who was that boy?” Carlos asked finally, stumbling along as Evie strutted alongside their awkward train.

“The one who died,” Evie explained, her heels clicking on the overturned cobblestones. “The one who helped everyone figure out that the barrier had weakened.”

“But… he died…” Maybe the fogginess was responsible for the unusual slowness, or maybe it was just his refusal to hope, but for whatever reason, Carlos wanted the girls to explain it further rather than let him infer like he normally loved to do.

“Yes,” Mal sounded kind of impatient. “You’re supposed to be the genius, de Vil. He died. He’s walking around again. Barrier must be fixed. Maybe your boy toy is awake, too.”

“He’s not -”

“Shut up.” The dark fairy shook her head. “You’ve been Jay’s secret for months. Don’t argue with me.”

The hideout was just as drafty and musty as it had been a few hours before when Carlos had finally summoned the courage to leave. The cider bottles were still scattered around the place where Jay had dumped them. And on the couch, draped lifelessly across it’s sagging cushions, was the body still burned into the back of Carlos’ mind. His throat felt tight all over again, and he looked away to avoid humiliating himself in front of Mal.

“He’s breathing.” Evie’s manner spoke calmly, too calmly for someone remarking that their dead friend still had a working heart.

“Jay.” Mal’s voice didn’t waver either. Was Carlos the only weak one here? The only one who still felt like sobbing in a ball, even though he knew the cost, knew what it meant?

The older boy suddenly stirred, the couch springs creaking with the shift. He coughed once, then turned towards them, as if trying to locate the voice that had brought him back.

“I have to say,” he said slowly, staring at the three of them. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined the afterlife.”

“Fucking hell.” Carlos’ voice broke, and he didn’t even care.  At least not that much. “The barrier worked. Why did it work? Mal?”

“You’re always the one with answers,” she huffed. “How the hell should I know?”

“They fixed it.” The gears in Carlos’ mind finally shifted back into high speed. “They fixed it the break, and it woke the other boy first because he’d died first. And then it woke Jay.”

The thief still looked slightly bemused. “So I’m not dead?”

“I’d like to think I’d be a little smoother in your dead-world,” Carlos said, scratching his neck. “And that we wouldn’t be living on this fucking island.”

And when Jay got up to hug him, Carlos almost forgot that Mal was standing right there. Mal trained her judgment glare on them, but her eyes were softer than before. Carlos remembered how pale she’d gotten when he’d told her about Jay, and he wondered - for the first time - if the daughter of Maleficent actually truly cared for the thief.

Carlos had broken a lot of rules today.

He’d been vulnerable with Jay.

He’d cried over him, too.

He’d mourned.

And he’d hugged.

But the way Jay ran his hands through his hair and smiled that ridiculous, cocky little grin almost made up for it. And the firm - if fleeting - embrace stuck with him long after they’d parted ways for the night.

“ _I’ll see you tomorrow, Jay._ ” The words tasted sweet. The promise of another day. And as Carlos walked home along the dark, dusty streets - ready to face whatever punishment his mother had in store for him for failing to complete his daily list - another little thought nagged at the back of his mind.

If the barrier could be weakened, perhaps it could wasn’t as invincible as he’d thought. Perhaps it could be broken from the inside. And then they wouldn’t need to worry about death and destruction. They could live for the first time instead of merely surviving.

And the promise of tomorrow could become the promise of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed!  
> Sorry this chapter took me a little longer - it was a little heavier than the first two.


	4. part IV

“May I ask how you got this scar?”

It was the last question Carlos wanted to answer, especially to this stranger in a white coat. Actually, if he’d had his way, he wouldn’t be in this man’s office at all. He’d read about Auradonian medicine for years, even obtained several old volumes of medical practices from the Forbidden Library in the basement of Dragon Hall. Sure, this type of medical help was more advanced than the island’s, but Carlos wasn’t injured; he wasn’t sick. And no matter how many times Ben explained to him what a “check-up” was, he just didn’t see the point of spending an afternoon to examine his body for _potential_ issues.

“Young man?” The doctor seemed a little concerned by his lack of response. “The scar on your neck?”

Carlos absentmindedly traced his finger over it. When he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was dead again. He could taste the blood, the metallic warmth that flooded his tongue and lips. He remembered Jay’s face and his hands and his voice - not the words, necessarily, just that he’d spoken at all. It felt wrong, in a way, to try and do those moments justice with a haphazard explanation.

 _No,_ he thought to himself as he stared at the doctor wordlessly. _No, I don’t want to tell you about this scar. These memories are mine._

“Your friend had one in a similar location,” the doctor continued, still watching him closely. Too closely. “That’s a very dangerous place for a cut, you know. There are high pressure, large vessels in the neck.”

“The carotid arteries.” Carlos stared right back at him. “I know.” When he said he’d read every single one of those medicinal volumes, he had been telling  the truth.

The doctor raised his eyebrows, taking a small step back as if appraising Carlos again. Carlos wasn’t exactly surprised; plenty of people underestimated him. It worked to his advantage a lot of the time. “You’re familiar with anatomy, I see.” Although the man looked only mildly impressed, his tone gave him away. “How old did Prince Benjamin say you were?”

Carlos went quiet again. He didn’t know what Ben had told this man, but it probably wasn’t the truth because Carlos hadn’t told anyone his age. Fourteen was his best guess (those medical books had been pretty descriptive about the different stages of puberty, and it hadn’t been all that difficult to figure it out his age after reading that.) But Jay said he was sixteen, so out loud, that’s what the son of the Cruella told the doctor.

While the man started writing on some form behind a clipboard, Carlos took another opportunity to trace his fingers across the scar across his throat. He was pretty certain that the doctor was commenting about it now, scribbling away with his back turned to hide the concerned look on his face, just as he had when Carlos had intently watched him draw blood, hardly moving a muscle when the sizeable needle had entered his vein. Sure, Carlos’ anxiety wasn’t great in here, what with all the strange tools and too-bright lights and being separated from the others and all, but he could manage. Even if he did feel a little dizzy from the blood work, it wasn’t like that was a new sensation or anything.

His thoughts drifted back to his scar again as his fingers traced the thin, raised line. It certainly wasn’t his only one, but he’d flat out refused to take off his clothes, so the doctor hadn’t gotten the chance to scrutinize the rest of him.

And if Carlos could help it, he never would.

 

x/x

 

Jay didn’t care about his medical report.

Ben kept apologizing for the delays, citing some perfunctory checks to justify their lateness. Jay mostly tuned him out. When he looked around at Mal’s crew, he saw the only medical report he’d ever need: Evie’s cheeks had filled out, and she no longer had the haunted look of starvation reflecting deep inside her eyes; Mal - their fearless leader - looked even stronger under Auradon’s light, bolder, and her eyes flashed a little greener as her color returned; and Carlos - scarred and freckled Carlos - no longer had his ribs poking dangerously out through his skin, a stark reminder of years of malnutrition that popped up whenever his shirt rode up. Their gang - for better or for worse - had grown healthier in Auradon, and Jay definitely didn’t need some royal-ego doctors to tell him that.

Ben, though, seemed intent on giving them the rundown anyway. He gathered them all together one afternoon in his office - which Jay privately thought was overkill for a sixteen-year-old before he remembered that this boy was literally king of an entire country - and pulled out four thin files and placed them on the table.

“Let me guess,” Mal drawled coldly, folding her arms. “We’re all the worst cases these doctors have ever had the misfortune to see?”

Ben looked a little pained. “Um - yeah, something like that.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, grateful at least that Ben wasn’t trying to sugarcoat things. It helped.

“So?” Evie was the only one of the four that looked a little nervous, fidgeting with her jeweled clutch ever so carefully. “What’s wrong with us?”

Ben opened one of the files and scanned it, reading out quickly. “Most of the same stuff for all of you. Chronic malnutrition and dehydration, evidence of broken limbs and fractures, underweight, above average reflexes, and such.”

“Above average reflexes?” Jay blinked, wondering how they’d managed to test that. “Why is that even important to you guys?” Reflexes were incredibly important back home, but here? It felt rather unnerving to have some white-coated men knowing everything about him. Usually people didn’t realize he had fast reflexes until he’d blocked their punch and taken off with their stuff.

“They were just doing a complete evaluation,” the king explained, flipping open another file. “None of us really knew what to expect when you guys arrived. How healthy you’d be, and all.”

“Did we pass the test, Benny Bear?” Mal asked sarcastically.

“No.” He gave her a little smile. “They’re actually pretty concerned about you guys.”

“Yeah, well,” the dark fairy seemed unbothered. “We lived on a rock prison all our lives. What did you expect us to be? Healthy and glowing?”

Jay had always loved that about Mal. She never spoke softly or treaded lightly. She said what she meant and got on with it; it was an important quality for a leader, in his opinion.

“Well, we can work on getting you guys the nutrition you need.” Ben looked around at the four of them. “Mal and Jay, you two were at least _on_ the weight charts. Evie and Carlos, let’s just say the doctors want to make sure you’re getting food three times a day with plenty of colors.”

Jay glanced at Carlos, but the other boy was too busy looking over at Evie to notice. It was no coincidence that Evie and Carlos were the ones falling off the weight charts. Sure, Jay and Mal had never had an _abundance_ of food, but they could steal themselves pretty good meals most of the time, at least enough to cut the edge. They were the strong ones, the ones with the reputation, the ones with a shred of respect and fear to their names. Carlos, on the other hand, spent so much time working for his mother that he hardly had time to eat, let alone go out and fight for it. And Evie… well, fairest in the land didn’t come to just anybody. Even now, far away from the island and her crazy dieting mother, the other three still struggled to get Evie to touch the food on her plate.

“Oh!” Ben exclaimed suddenly, his gaze falling on Jay and Carlos. “The doctors did note certain matching scars across your necks.”

Beside him, Jay felt Carlos tense up. His own neck burned slightly, as if remembering the feeling of a knife running across it. Even the girls shared quick looks, alarm apparent under their calm and collected expressions. They knew about his and Carlos’ pact. They’d seen the effects of the barrier’s magic. Hell, they’d been with Carlos when Jay had finally woken up after the damn thing had nearly failed.

“Ben,” Mal said sharply, tearing her eyes away from the white line on Jay’s neck. “Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to.”

Ben looked even more concerned, and Jay gritted his teeth, his hand sliding across to squeeze Carlos’ subtly.

“Look -” the king chewed his lip, “I just want to help you guys get on the right track for recovery and healing. Scars are tricky. There can be nerve damage -”

“ _Emotional damage,”_ Mal hissed. “We know. We were there. So just drop it.”

“I -” Ben took a deep breath. “I won’t tell the doctors everything if you don’t want me to. But, as a friend and your king, I do want to know how such deep scars were created. It’s an important step in recovery, which is what I swore to help you guys with when I brought you all over in the first place.”

“Dude, drop it!” Jay could feel his temper rising. He could also feel Carlos let go of his hand on favor for gripping his thigh, which usually meant his voice had gotten louder. He tried to lower it some, taking a few breaths. “Seriously. Ben. I don’t care how many crowns you own. It doesn’t give you the right to know anything about those scars or any other scars.”

“Can I say one more thing?”

Jay’s self control was fading fast, and Carlos’ grip - which had lessened slightly - returned to his quad in full force.

“We will make sure that whoever gave you those scars,” Ben continued earnestly, his stupidly-bright eyes clearly reflecting his good-beyond-measure intentions, “is rightfully punished. I’m sorry that the situation has gotten so out of hand on the island, enough for people to actually inflict that kind of harm on one another. Now, I know no one can die, thankfully, thanks to the barrier, but whichever cowardly, cruel villain -”

“Us!” The word felt like it was being ripped from Jay’s chest. His vision buzzed with fury, and he finally couldn’t take another second as he stood and faced the king. “Us, Ben! Those _cowardly, cruel villains who inflicted such awful scars?_ Us! Me and Carlos! You’re looking at them! Wanna lock us up? _Properly punish us?”_

Ben, however kingly and composed he’d been a moment before, took an alarmed step back. “I - I don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand?” Jay pouted in mock sympathy. “Aw, that’s too fucking bad. Thought we were the victims, huh? That it was just so easy to tell who was good and who was bad on the island? Thought we were some sort of angel children who managed to bond together and survive the horrors of our mean and awful parents without ever blackening our own record?”

“Well -”

“I murdered him, Ben.” Jay didn’t really care that Ben looked crushed. He’d pressed for the information; it wasn’t Jay’s fault that the news wasn’t what he’d hoped. “I murdered Carlos. Many times, actually. Slit his throat. Made that scar. And you know what? I’d do it again if I had to.”

“But -” Ben spluttered. “You can’t die on the island! No one can! Fairy Godmother -”

“- forced us to resort to the damn barrier’s regeneration magic when ribs got crushed and knives got thrown!” Images of a bruised and battered Carlos de Vil lying on the floor of Hell Hall made Jay’s throat constrict some. “Dammit, Ben! He asked me to clean up the blood! Have you ever had to clean up the fucking blood of your dead best friend, selfishly hoping and praying that some faraway heroes and their fucking barrier manage to bring him back, but also deep down understanding that if he fucking stayed dead by some fucking miracle it might be for the best?! Because those ribs that were practically poking out of his bruised up chest make you wanna fucking kill someone else? Makes you wish you _could_ kill the person who did it? But you can’t kill them so you settle for killing him instead and holding him in your fucking arms as he fucking _dies.”_

And suddenly, Jay couldn’t stand to be in that room for another half a second. He stalked right out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. For some reason, slamming doors always made him feel a little closer to home, helped him release the pure anger rippling up his arms. He didn’t regret it one bit.

He _knew_ that it hadn’t been Ben’s idea to create the barrier. It hadn’t been Ben who locked up their parents or decided to forget about the entire isle and turned a blind eye on the whole place and still counted himself as a hero. But he was still from Auradon. For whatever reason - fate or otherwise - he’d grown up with good food and good parents and good ribs in a pretty little castle with a pretty little life. And in that moment, Jay hated him for it.

“Hey.”

Turning around sharply, Jay realized Carlos had joined in the hallway. The other boy’s face was set in rigid, stony lines and the haunted look in his eyes had returned tenfold (Jay figured he wasn’t the only one with images of death flashing behind his lids).

“I’m not gonna apologize.” Jay knew word of his behavior was bound to get around. He’d yelled at the High King, slammed his door, practically spit in his face and rejected his amicable attempts at rehabilitation. The others in Auradon wouldn’t look too kindly on any single one of those instances, let alone all of them together. They might even send him back to the island once they found out.

 _Let them,_ Jay thought bitterly. _Maybe I don’t care anymore._

“Why should you apologize?” Carlos’ wasn’t yelling, but that didn’t mean his voice was any less steely. “If anyone should apologize, it’s these cocked-up heroes. You told the truth. If Ben can’t handle it, that’s his problem.”

And suddenly, a new urge crashed over Jay in waves - one that had always been there, but never allowed to show its face. He took a step towards Carlos, his body still shaking with badly controlled rage and something else that felt just as potent. “Shit, Carlos, can I - fuck - I just wanna -”

Carlos - by all miracles - seemed to understand anyway. “Please.”

And then they were kissing, fervently, messily, holding each other in the hallway as they tried desperately to push away the darkness for a few more minutes; they were always fighting for a few more seconds in the light.

“Shit - Jay -” Carlos gasped between breaths, kissing him harder than Jay’s stupid, selfish self ever deserved to be kissed.

“I know.” And Jay did. None of this was right. The killing. The kissing. The fact that he’d let himself grow so attached to a freckled boy with an aptitude for surviving. Jay didn’t want to stop kissing him, though. He wanted to hold him, to shield him, to press his lips to Carlos’ until all the pain was gone.

 _I don’t care,_ Jay thought recklessly. _I’m crazy for him, and I don’t even care._

And for half a second, for the tiniest fraction of a moment in a royal hallway far away from any bloodstained floor or sagging couch, the two of them felt truly and really free.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! I think this is a good place to stop for now... I might add more if I feel like it but I kind of like where this sits right now. Thank you so much for your comments + kudos; I love every single one!


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